


Christmas With the Sirens

by Lise



Category: DCU (Comics), Gotham City Sirens (Comics)
Genre: Antagonistic Relationships That Are Kind of Friendship, Christmas, Developing Relationship, F/F, Female Friendship, Female-Centric, First Kiss, Gen, Harley wants a christmas dammit, I have never written any of these characters at length before don't hurt me, Implied Sexual Content, POV Female Character, Snow, Snowball Fight, basically the Sirens being themselves, in fact it is all ladies in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harleen Quinzel wants a proper Christmas. Pamela Isley and Selina Kyle are along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas With the Sirens

**Author's Note:**

> And the last of my giftmas fics, _sadly_ late. We're not going to talk about that. This one is for [hugintheraven](http://hugintheraven.tumblr.com), who asked for Harley/Ivy and a very Gotham City Sirens Christmas. 
> 
> Now, I am more of a Marvel girl, really (though I got my start in DC) but _damn_ did I love the Gotham City Sirens comic while it ran. Mostly for the lady friendships. Basically for the lady friendships. This fic, for all my internal emotional angst about how I didn't know if I was getting the characters totally wrong, was immensely fun to write. So thank you, Hugin, for prompting it, and giving me a chance to write a little holiday themed ode to my favorite supervillains. 
> 
> Catwoman's origins backstory nods are based on the little I know about Catwoman, and if I've fucked anything up, I am very sorry.

Selina stumbled downstairs yawning and almost jumped out of her skin when someone shoved a hat down over her eyes. “’tis the season, kitty!” came a familiar voice, and Selina winced, pushing the hat up so she could see. Ivy was sitting on the couch, shoulders hunched and bearing her own red-and-white Santa hat, expression decidedly long-suffering.

“Really, Harleen?” Selina drawled. Quinn grinned.

“Really,” she said, emphatically. “I’m planning a real Christmas this year. You’re not going to be a wet blanket, are you?”

Selina crossed her arms. “I don’t really do Christmas.”

Harley’s eyes narrowed. “You do now.” She was, Selina noticed, wearing fuzzy red and green socks, and candy cane earrings. Selina raised her eyebrows, and Harley’s expression turned slightly mulish. “I _am_ having a Sirens’ Christmas this year if I have to drag you both with me and keep you tied up all night.”

“Ivy?” Selina said, but she shook her head.

“Pick your battles, Miss Kyle,” she said, and lifted her mug of tea to her lips. “This is not one you are going to win.”

Selina looked from Harley to Ivy and back again. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Fine,” she huffed, at length, but pulled the hat off. “Maybe I’ll just make myself scarce for the month of December.” The way Harley’s face lit up was just…painfully endearing, damn her. Selina had a sinking feeling she’d just been suckered. “But I’m not wearing the hat,” she added, firmly. “I have standards.”

* * *

She ended up wearing the hat.

The first step, Harley announced, was getting a proper tree. A _big_ one. Ivy was – communing, or something, with one of her potted plants and not listening, even when Harley gave her a significant look. Selina cleared her throat.

"The nearest tree farm is about two miles away,” she said loudly. “If you wanted to just cut one down-”

Ivy’s head came up at that, her eyes narrowed in Selina’s direction, stare poisonous. “Please tell me you are joking, Miss Kyle.”

“Pay attention,” Selina said, and jerked a thumb at Harley. “If I’m going to be dragged into this, I don’t want it to take longer than it has to.”

Ivy crossed her arms. “I don’t see why we can’t simply forego the whole thing. A tree belongs outside, not in someone’s living room.” Harley started to frown. “I am not going to put a beautiful fir through the trouble just for the sake of some silly holiday.”

Selina sat down on one of the couches and kicked up her feet. “We could get a fake tree.” Neither of them looked at her, and Selina huffed a laugh. “Just a suggestion.”

“It isn’t silly,” Harley protested. “It’s a very – look, I haven’t had a good Christmas since what feels like just about ever, so I don’t see why-”

“Don’t pout at me, Harleen,” Ivy said. “It’s not going to change my mind.” She returned to the potted plant. “I’m not going to do it.”

“Pretty please, Ivy?” If Selina had ever been a sucker for puppy eyes, she would have fallen right over herself to do anything for that face.

“I submit the fake tree solution again,” she drawled. Harley shot her a look as deadly as Ivy’s glare.

“I am _not_ having a fake tree. It’s not right. And if Ivy would just-”

“What do you want me to do?” Ivy snapped. “Make a Douglas Fir grow right through the floor in our living room?”

Harley’s expression went more stubborn. “Why not?”

Selina sat up. “I hate to remind you both, but the terms of our lease probably prohibit unexpected plant growths-”

“Fine!” Ivy snapped, over Selina, and stood up. The floor bent upward, creaking ominously, and burst before a rapidly growing sapling that quickly thickened, sprouting upward rapidly.

It was, Selina had to admit with a groan, a very impressive looking tree. Harley squeaked and jumped away from the thickening branches beginning to reach ominously for her – with Ivy, that might well be the case – but when she turned around her face split with a grin.

“Fine,” Selina muttered, “ignore me. I’m going to make _sure_ you both get landed with the damages charges-”

“It’s _perfect,_ ” Harley said breathlessly. Ivy hmmphed.

“There’s not nearly enough water in the soil here,” she said. “It cannot stay here.”

“No kidding,” Selina remarked. Ivy shot her another glare.

“I will expect your help transplanting it properly when it is time,” Ivy said, and then stalked out of the living room.

* * *

“Really?” Selina said, a touch incredulous as she shed her coat and took in the materials laid out on the kitchen table. “Gingerbread houses?”

“Who made you such a Grinch, kitty?” Harley asked cheerfully. “Come on, it’s Christmas.” Selina looked at Ivy, but she appeared to be absorbed in her construction.

“As I told you,” Selina said, “I don’t really do Christmas. If I’d known this was going to be your excuse for – team building exercises-”

“This isn’t a team-building exercise,” Harley said, sounding offended. “It’s a _competition._ ”

“A competition,” Selina said, warily. Harley nodded. “For what?”

“Whoever builds the best gingerbread house gets a special Christmas wish from the two losers,” Harley said, solemnly. “And Ivy and I have a head start, so if you want to be competitive…”

The wheels ticked in Selina’s head, and she sat down. “All right,” she said. “I’m in. And you two better watch out.” She cracked her knuckles. “And get ready to watch the queen conquer.”

She glanced over toward the others about ten minutes later, when she was struggling to get her walls to hold together. Harley, she discovered, was building an intricate replica of their house, complete with – as far as she could tell – interior detailing. Ivy’s was a little less overwhelming at first, but a closer look revealed that she was managing to construct Wayne Manor becoming overwhelmed with (Twizzler) vines.

Selina felt a vague, creeping sense of inadequacy and redoubled her efforts.

“Who’s the judge?” she remembered to ask, belatedly.

“Oh,” Harley said, sounding distracted. “I just figured we’d find someone on the street so they’re impartial.”

“You’re serious,” Selina said, after a long pause.

“Please be quiet, Miss Kyle,” Ivy said mildly. “You are spoiling my concentration.”

* * *

The nice lady down at the grocery store, who kept looking back and forth between them with very wide eyes, voted Harley’s gingerbread house the winner, for which Harley hugged her with a delighted squeal. Ivy only looked a little like she was sulking. Selina’s sad creation hadn’t really been in the running.

“What do you think she’s going to ask for,” Ivy murmured, and Selina felt her face fall further toward a sour sulk.

“I’m trying not to think about it. If she makes me wear anything, though-”

Harley let their impromptu judge go – Selina gave her a wan smile, which only seemed to make her move faster – and turned around. “Right, then,” she said. “It’s time for my Christmas wishes. Ivy – from you I want…” she seemed to consider for a few moments, and then nodded firmly. “No, from both of you – Selina, you gave me the idea, we’re going to do some group bonding. Our tree needs some ornaments, and I need to get presents for you, and _you_ need to get presents for _me-_ ”

Ivy’s expression was impassive, but Selina thought she could see some traces of despair.

“We are going _shopping,_ ” Harley said triumphantly. “Christmas shopping. It’ll be fun! We can get fancy winter drinks and go to a movie afterwards!”

“Harleen,” Ivy said, sounding painfully reluctant.

“Oh no,” Harley interrupted. “This is my Christmas wish. _And_ I won the competition. How does tomorrow sound?”

Selina thought about saying she had a wedding. Or a funeral. Something important she couldn’t _possibly_ miss. But the look on Ivy’s face… “Yeah,” she said, making her voice cheerful. “Tomorrow sounds great.”

“Good! It’s a date, then,” Harley said brightly, and waltzed off.

“I hate you very much, Miss Kyle,” Ivy said, coldly. Selina smiled at her, entirely insincere.

“Don’t I know it,” she said, and then raised her eyebrows. “What would you have asked for, if you’d won?”

Ivy’s eyes pinned her with a poisonous glare that Selina ignored. “Of you? Perhaps that you did not speak in my presence for the rest of the month.”

“And from Harley?” Selina asked. Ivy’s back straightened and her head came up.

“None of your business,” she said, cold again. “I would ask the same invasive question of you, but I think it was clear that you were never really in the running.”

“Hey!” Selina objected, but Ivy had already stridden out of the room with that ever present sashay of her hips. “My gingerbread house was _fine,_ ” Selina muttered to herself.

* * *

Selina didn’t mind shopping, mostly. Especially when it wasn’t with her money. It was just that…shopping with Harleen Quinzel was a…unique experience. And not one quantifiable under the simple term ‘shopping.’

She brought along a few gadgets, just in case something went wrong, but at the end of the day they’d avoided any serious citations (that Ivy couldn’t talk them out of) and Harley was exhausted enough that she crawled onto the couch and fell fast asleep, snoring loudly into the couch cushions.

“Drink?” Selina offered Ivy as she poured out two fingers of scotch, though she was considering taking Harley’s example, if in a proper bed.

“Please,” Ivy said, after a moment, and so Selina poured two glasses and handed one over.

They drank in silence that wasn’t quite companionable. The two of them had never really gotten along, and even with this setup they still didn’t, quite. It worked, Selina knew, mostly because of Harley. In some bizarre way, she was the glue that kept the Gotham City Sirens…more or less functioning.

“It’s like having a puppy,” Selina said, with a vague wave in Harley’s direction. Ivy’s sharp look in her direction was – strange.

“It is not,” she said, almost sounding offended. Selina raised her eyebrows, and Ivy exhaled and took a drink of her scotch. “She’s Harleen. A unique woman, that’s all.”

“I didn’t mean anything bad by it,” Selina said, after a moment. “Just that she’s…you know. Incorrigible, or whatever the word is.”

Ivy’s mouth flickered in a smile. It even looked like a real one, a pleasant one, not one of those dangerous affairs that was more common from her. “She is that.”

Selina leaned back and took a sip of her scotch, then tossed back the rest and set down the glass. “You like her.”

Ivy did not look at her. “I am fond of Miss Quinzel. I would perhaps call her a friend.”

Selina shook her head. “Don’t play clueless, _Miss Isley._ It doesn’t suit you very well. If she’d tacked up mistletoe you’d be kissing her under it.”

Ivy’s lips pressed together and Selina might’ve felt a flicker of nervousness if she’d been a different woman. “And?” she said, after a moment. Selina shrugged.

“I was just noticing.”

Ivy looked away, after a moment, back toward the snoring Harley on the couch. One of her hyenas, bedecked in antlers, had crept up to the couch and was drooling on the carpet next to her. “She isn’t interested,” she said, after a moment. “Too wrapped up in that warped monster of a man.”

“She deserves better,” Selina said mildly. “Though maybe that’s not saying much. Anyone would deserve better than that.”

“Yes,” Ivy said, with somewhat more heat. “She does.” She stood, abruptly, and finished her drink. “If you will excuse me.”

Selina let her go, and watched Harley snore for a few more minutes before trooping upstairs to fall into her own bed.

* * *

It snowed in Gotham on Christmas Eve.

It was actually Ivy who noticed it first, her nose wrinkled as she trooped in from outside, red hair dusted with white. “It’s appalling out there,” she said. Harley, who had been playing a game of solitaire for the last two hours while listening to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” on repeat, perked up at once.

“Is it snowing?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ivy said, sounding decidedly disgruntled. “It is, and you don’t have to sound so pleased about it. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go curl up in my greenhouse where it is-”

“Oh no,” Harley said, “Oh no you don’t – and you too, kitty, we’re going outside! I have to put some warm clothes on-”

“You’re joking,” Selina said, looking up from her thriller reluctantly. “It’s almost dark, Harley. And besides, this is _Gotham_ , you can’t really want to go out and play in the slush-”

“It’s snowing!” Harley shouted, already halfway up the stairs, and Selina sighed and looked to Ivy, who was looking longingly toward her greenhouse. Selina waited.

“I’m going to go find a sweater,” Ivy said, almost a mutter, and she headed up the stairs as well.

With a sigh, Selina piled on her own layers until she felt like the Michelin man, almost too bundled up to move. She felt better when she saw Ivy, though, who was barely visible under all her layers of clothes. Harley was the last to emerge and was, to Selina’s chagrin, almost managing grace with her snowpants. Almost.

“Outside!” Harley cried, and grabbed their hands, dragging them out through the front door.

It wasn’t slushing, the way it usually did in Gotham, an unpleasant mixture of snow and rain. It was actually snowing, little drifting flakes that were already ankle-deep. The street outside their house was quiet, and everything had the faintly muffled quality of snow. It was slightly brighter than Selina had expected, the streetlights reflecting off the snow.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Harley said, somewhat more hushed, still holding Ivy with one hand and Selina with the other. “Selina, Ivy, isn’t it beautiful? _Iiiii’m dreeeeaming of a whiiiite-_ ”

Selina tugged away and bent down to grab a handful of snow and throw it at Harley’s shoulder. It hit with a quiet _paff,_ and Harley startled and then laughed, letting go of Ivy and packing a more careful snowball that Selina dodged. She remembered Christmases like this, when it had been her and Maggie. It seemed like a long time ago.

She glanced over at Ivy and found her still standing just outside the house, her arms crossed. She ducked a snowball at the last moment, and then Harley bounded over to Ivy.

“C’mere, Ivy!” she said, her grin bright and cheerful. “Let’s make snow angels! Or maybe a snowman? Kitty, what do you think?”

“You _just_ called me Selina,” she called. “Did you forget my name already?”

Ivy drew her shoulders up. “I don’t like the snow,” she said. “It’s too cold.”

Harley tugged her arm. “C’mon. You don’t _know_ you don’t like it. Maybe you do like it. Now that you’re not wearing too few clothes – we can make a snow- _plant_ if you’d rather, maybe one of those big carnivorous ones-”

Ivy tugged back. “I _am_ a plant,” she said, sounding a little irritable. “And I do _not_ like to be out in the winter, so why don’t you and Miss Kyle do – whatever it is you are going to do and I will-”

“Is Poison Ivy scared of a little cold?” Selina said. Ivy looked like she wanted to strangle her.

“I’m not _scared,_ I just dislike – Harley, let go of me-” She tugged, and Harley tugged back, and with a yelp the ever graceful Poison Ivy toppled forward, foot slipping on a patch of ice, and both she and Harley fell into the snow with a crunch.

Ivy was pushing herself up at once, shaking snow out of her hair, snatching for her hat and loosened scarf. Harley stayed down, laughing, and Selina took a step closer. “Need any help?” she called, not quite able to keep herself from grinning.

“No!” Ivy snapped. “Thank you-” and then Harley reached up and pulled her off balance again.

When neither of them got up right away, Selina walked awkwardly over, only to stop when she recognized a familiar, delighted sort of “mmm” noise.

She took a step back, but before she could give them any more space Ivy popped up out of the snow, followed shortly by Harley. They both stood up, brushing each other off, and Selina could see that little smile on Ivy’s face.

“Need any help?” Selina offered, eyebrows creeping up. Harley giggled, and then she was bending Ivy back in a flawless combined dip/kiss. Ivy’s hat dropped to the snow.

Selina had to smile, just a little.

But she did head inside. It was too damn cold to watch her housemates get it on.

She wore earplugs, just in case. Turned out Harley was loud.

* * *

Selina came downstairs on Christmas morning to find two bodies tangled together on the couch, both of them snoring, though one somewhat more faintly. Selina got herself a cup of coffee and was about to retreat back upstairs when she noticed a pair of presents under the (massive) tree.

She picked them up, examining the handwriting on each one, then took them upstairs to unwrap them in privacy. From Ivy there were three novels, all by her favorite author, all advance reader copies. _I happen to have an acquaintance in publishing,_ Ivy’s note said. _And I remembered seeing the author on the shelves_.

Selina half smiled a little, and then opened Harley’s.

There was a colorful collage card with two movie tickets inside. _If you wanted to get back in touch with that Bruce man,_ said the note. The other present…

It was a scrapbook. A _nice_ scrapbook, maybe not all that well organized, but it was all pictures of the three of them. _Gotham City Sirens,_ said the cover, in sparkly glitter text. Selina paged through it and caught herself snickering, at the candids of Ivy, at all the pictures with Harley in the middle, pulling the three of them together.

She went to the last page and found a slip of paper, another handwritten note.

_This has been one of the best years for me, ever,_ it said, in Harley’s nearly indecipherable scrawl. _Thanks, kitty. Love, Harleen Quinzel (Harley Quinn). Besties forever, right??_

Selina closed the scrapbook and looked at it and the novels and the card. She thought about Maggie and Christmases past, and Christmases that hadn’t been much of Christmases.

She opened up her laptop and turned up the volume.

Selina Kyle woke up Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn at 9:00 on Christmas morning by playing Mariah Carey’s holiday album as loudly as her speakers would go.

“Wake up, Sirens!” she hollered, when both of them jerked up and almost bonked heads. “It’s Christmas!”


End file.
